


I Went to Your Wedding

by Draycevixen



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:59:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3113891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draycevixen/pseuds/Draycevixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I offered to write 12 Advent fics for mates. </p><p>Snailbones asked for: <i>'Snowstorm' or Bodie gets to look scruffy, while Doyle scrubs up nicely.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	I Went to Your Wedding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snailbones (spottydog)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spottydog/gifts).



Raymond Doyle was surprisingly elegant in a morning suit but then his wiry build was made for suits, the cut of the morning coat emphasising the breadth of his shoulders and the slenderness of his waist. 

Bodie's eyes tracked lower where the formal trousers clung lovingly to Ray's hips before he managed to drag his eyes back up. This was neither the time nor the place. 

Ray was fidgeting again, one hand rubbing nervously at the back of his neck where the hair had been shorn a couple of days before. He hadn't seen Ray's hair this short since he'd first come to CI5 from the Met but it was still trying valiantly to curl behind his ears.

Ray said something to Murph, who reached to straighten Ray's already straight cravat for him. 

Ray had wanted Bodie to be his best man but he'd made his excuses and while he knew Ray hadn't believed a single one of them, Murphy had taken his place. 

The estate's small church was filling up or at least what he could see of it, peering around the vestry door. He glanced back at the rattling window. The snow that had been lightly falling was getting a lot heavier and the wind was picking up just as predicted. It made him cold just looking at it and he had to go back outside in it soon. He'd wait until the service was due to start and then move outside before he had to witness it. 

He looked out into the church again only to catch Ray staring at him. He made himself smile and Ray hesitantly smiled back before turning as the processional march began. Bodie zipped up his parka over his jeans and thick old jumper and left through the backdoor. 

 

It was three hours before he saw Ray properly again. Three cold miserable hours of only catching glimpses of him through the windows of Sir David's ancestral home as Ray and the bride circulated, talking to their guests, as the snow turned into drifts and he started to lose feeling in his extremities. 

 

He'd never been happier to hear the first shot, converging with the rest of the squad on the East side of the Great Hall where they found Ray with one disarmed masked gunman in a headlock, the bride with another one pinned to the terrace and a third man being pursued by Anson and Jax out across what would have been the lawn if it hadn't been currently buried under three feet of snow. 

He stopped to help the bride back to her feet after she'd rendered the man unconscious. 

Susan curtsied before pulling the veil from her head. "Christ, it's cold out here."

He started to gallantly unzip his parka but Susan waved him off and went back inside. 

It took another hour to get the thwarted revenge killing or kidnapping of Sir David's daughter and new son-in-law sorted out, they still weren't quite sure from the intelligence they'd received which the gang had intended it to be and they rounded up ten men in total. 

Cowley had congratulated them all on a job well done, distributed a round of whisky and then informed them that they were snowed in at the estate and assigned shared rooms to the agents and police officers, all in the servant and guest quarters. 

 

He'd been the first to reach their assigned room, impressed that it was one of the guest rooms dominated by a large four poster bed. Considering the large drafty rooms downstairs it was toasty warm, with a good fire burning cheerily in the fireplace. He'd thrown off his parka and jumper and taken off his hiking boots and socks leaving him in his jeans and a t-shirt, basking in the warmth. 

Ray got there twenty minutes later, bag in hand but still dressed for the wedding, locking the door behind him. 

"How quaint." Ray looked him over. "I see they still provide rough trade for the young master." 

Ray didn't get to say anything more. 

 

He didn't want to move ever again. He was sleep deprived, sore, sticky, bruised, reeked of sex, reeked of ... Ray. He couldn't wait to do it again.

Ray shifted beside him. "I want to ask you something."

He tensed, not sure he was ready to answer. 

"Is that my cravat?"

He followed the line of Ray's arm to where he was pointing at the chandelier, now sporting Ray's cravat. 

"I think that's your underpants on the face of Lord Wotsit." They were hanging off the corner of a family portrait.

Laughing with Ray would always be one of his favourite things. 

"What got into you?"

"You."

"Prat. If I'd known you have a thing for formal dress I'd have worn it before now."

He could play it safe but that had never brought him anything worth having. "It wasn't the suit. You look good in anything, better out of it." He rolled over to stare down at Ray.

"Bodie?" Ray cradled his cheek and he leaned into it.

"We agreed to keep things casual, but I can't anymore. I know it was all faked, but..." 

He couldn't find the words to finish but he didn't have to, not with Ray. 

"Then it's settled." Ray was grinning like he'd just won the pools. "No more casual."


End file.
